1. It's ecologically friendly.
Costa Rica is considered one of the most ecologically conscious countries in the world, instituting a goal to be carbon neutral way back in 1997 – and coming close these days. In fact, Costa Rica is ranked no. 5 in the world on the Environmental Performance Index, the best country outside Europe. It’s probably also the no. 1 eco-tourism destination in the world.

2. It has the oldest constitution in Central America.
Costa Rica is the longest-standing democracy in Central America, thanks to their national constitution, drafted in 1949. The governing document affords many rights and protections to its citizens, allowing Costa Rica to enjoy stable and peaceful growth. Costa Rica consistently ranks the highest of any Latin Nation on the Human Development Index and United Nations Development Programme.

3. It's a country with no army.
With their progressive constitution in 1949, Costa Rica decided to ban any armed forces, making it one of only a handful of countries in the world without an army, still to this day.

4. A great education system.
By investing in education instead of funding an army, Costa Rica now boasts a 96% literacy rate, the highest in Latin America. Their commitment to education has allowed them to attract good skilled jobs and boost income for their citizens.

5. Unmatched natural beauty.
Costa Rica has not one but two gorgeous coastlines with more than 800 miles of shoreline and tropical beaches, on the Pacific and also the Caribbean side of the country.

6. The most diverse wildlife on the planet.
There are over 130 species of fish, 220 of reptiles, 1,000 butterflies, 9,000 plants, 20,000 species of spiders and 34,000 species of insects in Costa Rica, which represents 5% of the world’s biodiversity even though it is just about .03% of the earth’s total landmass. Costa Rica is also known for its sloths and turtles and they can be seen in protected habitats and beaches. But if you’re more of a monkey, lizard, or exotic bird lover, Costa Rica will be your favorite place! In fact, the country became the first place in the Americas to ban recreational hunting.

7. Adventure sports galore.
Zip lining, sky diving, jumping off waterfalls, repelling, exploring caves, horseback riding, 4x4 runs, jet skiing, and just about every other adventure sport you could imagine are all on the menu in Costa Rica.

8. Volcanoes!
The landmass of present day Costa Rica is the result of volcanic eruptions 75 million years ago – and still are active today. In fact, Costa Rica still has five listed active volcanoes and more than 200 volcanic formations. The most famous of these is Arenal Volcano an easy day trip from San Jose. It last erupted in 1968, but you can still enjoy the hot springs at its base.

9. Protected nature reserves.
Costa Rica is on the forefront of environmental conservation, long ago protecting about 25% of their country as national parks. Manuel Antonio National Park on the west coast is the most famous, but Tortuguero National Park and La Amistad International Park are amazing, too.
10. Top surfing.
Costa Rica is ranked as one of the three best surfing destinations in the world, home to year round warm water and unique microclimate that bring consistent offshore winds. Big competitions like the Billabong World Surfing Games are often hosted by Costa Rica, but even beginners can wax up their boards and catch some waves.

11. Their “Pura Vida” attitude
A common saying among locals is “Pura Vida” which means “pure life.” Everywhere you go in Costa Rica you will be welcomed with a smile by the locals, and they will truly make you feel at home in their country.

12. It’s so close to the U.S. and Canada.
One of the best things about Costa Rica is its close proximity to the United States and Canada. San Jose is only a 2-hour flight from Miami and 3 ½ hours from New York, and there are more nonstop and cheap, direct flights all the time.

13. The happiest country on earth.
The World Database of Happiness ranks Costa Rica as the #1 happiest nation on earth out of 148 countries. (The United States ranks no. 20, by the way.)

14. Gender equality.
According to the World Economic Forum, Costa Rica ranks higher than even the United States in the gender gap index. The female population is educated, enjoys advanced healthcare, voting, and employment equality. In fact, Costa Rica even had a female president recently.

15. Superb coffee and chocolate.
Thanks to their mountain terrain and tropical weather, Costa Rica is known as producing some of the best coffee and chocolate in the world. Those just happen to be two of our favorite things!

16. A world class healthcare system.
Costa Rica has a modern and highly rated healthcare system, even more highly ranked than the United States. Costa Rican citizens enjoy universal healthcare insurance and have a life expectancy of 77 years, one of the highest in the world.

17. Modern and improving Infrastructure.
Costa Rica has gone to great lengths to modernize and improve their infrastructure in the past decades, so there are efficient international airports, paved highways connecting the country, and modern amenities in the capital of San Jose as well as any popular touristy area.

18. Diving and marine life.
Costa Rica has some of the best diving, snorkeling, and accessible marine life in the world, such as such the Cocos Island National Park, also a World Heritage Site and the Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refugee. In fact, Costa Rica’s oceans are home to at least 6,777 species, which is 3.5% of the known species in the planet!

19. Bull fights…that are safe for the bulls.
Bullfights are a Costa Rican tradition, at every small village festival and the grand events in San Jose. But unlike the bullfights in Spain and other areas, the bulls are never harmed in Costa Rica…though they do dish out some serious damage to whoever is brave enough to jump in the ring with them.
​20. Costa Rica welcomes expats.
People from all over the world choose to move down to Costa Rica and make it their new home. Retirees, surfers, young families, and those who just desire the simple, beachside life move there every year by the thousands – and Costa Ricans general welcome them with open arms.
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Check out South of Normal, the Amazon best-selling cult classic book about an expat's bizarre, outrageous, and beautiful experience moving to Costa Rica.

I admit it’s a strange niche, but I promise you it’s also one that’s downright infectious with its readers. Then again, these are strange bunch – a hodgepodge of literate expatriates, backpackers, surfers, world travelers, and adventurers. This genre equally attracts a shadow class of readers – those who hop borders to make a buck (often by unscrupulous means, themselves,) to evade the law back home, dodge the IRS, or just live “off the grid” for when the Illuminati/zombie apocalypse goes down. These books are about people who tried their hand at smuggling drugs, got set up as unwitting mules, or just used them recreationally, but managed to gewere pinched in the worst possible places, where human rights are a joke and survival is a daily fight. For the most part, we’re not talking about fiction. These stories are about real people who got busted for drug-related crimes far from home and did some of the hardest time imaginable. Most of them are the first to confess their guilt yet a few of them are innocent or at least defensible – though justice was never once served. In some cases, a death sentence would have been far more humane. Also worth noting, this is also not about religious or political captives or prisoners of war. These books are about private citizens who danced with the devil, got caught, and barely managed to crawl back out of hell to tell their stories. No matter how they come about these titles, a reader rarely just picks up one. Brits, Looneys (Canadians,) Kiwis, Swedes, Frogs (sorry) – they come from every country. Cambodia, Thailand, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, South Africa, Peru; they pick up these books at hostels, battered copies at little used book stores along the backpacker circuit, or grab counterfeit copies off the street for a dollar or two. They devour them in a couple of days, while smoking fags and drinking pints in cafes or on the beach. Then, they tell their equally eclectic friends and move on to the next book in the genre.

Maybe it's pure Schadenfreude, or perhaps we globe trotters we've all made mistakes or associated with people that could have landed us in the same situations with a bad roll of the dice. Acute fear is a strange thing - unnervingly repulsive and yet we can't bring ourselves to look away. And so is the darkness of human imagination, for I dare you to read these and not think, "What would I do if that happened to me? Would I survive?"

Here are the top 8 books about travelers incarcerated in foreign prisons for drug offenses. I listed them by their popularity (number of reviews) on Amazon.com, and a quick bio so you know what they're all about.

ShantaramBy Gregory David Roberts.Note: This book garnered almost mythical intrigue among travelers, who mostly thought it was nonfiction. It turns out it's a novel, though possibly based on a true story or inspired by true events. Whatever the case, it's a wild read!

"It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured." So begins this epic, mesmerizing first novel set in the underworld of contemporary Bombay. Shantaram is narrated by Lin, an escaped convict with a false passport who flees maximum security prison in Australia for the teeming streets of a city where he can disappear.

South of NormalBy Norm Schriever.Frustrated and unfulfilled with his comfortable existence in the States, successful businessman Norm Schriever knows there is something more he is supposed to do with his life. So, he quits his job, sells and donates all of his possessions, and moves down to Tamarindo, Costa Rica, with nothing but a laptop and a surfboard, vowing to chase his long-forgotten dream of being a writer. But before he even arrives, his one and only gringo friend in Costa Rica is set up by a corrupt local attorney and thrown in a horrid local prison. Starting on his first day in town, Norm has to spend way too much "quality time" visiting his friend in that prison, where he's locked in with the other inmates. Norm soon finds that paradise has its dark side, and the perfect life in a little seaside town isn't always as easy as it seems. Whether it's adapting to the local customs and the language barrier, dodging lawless drug traffickers and corrupt cops, or helping to keep his friend alive in prison, Norm always keeps his sense of humor and forges ahead, intent on finding the paradise he has been looking for.

Marching PowderBy Thomas McFadden and Rusty Young.Rusty Young was backpacking in South America when he heard about Thomas McFadden, a convicted English drug trafficker who ran tours inside Bolivia's notorious San Pedro prison. Intrigued, the young Australian journalist went to La Paz and joined one of Thomas's illegal tours. They formed an instant friendship and then became partners in an attempt to record Thomas's experiences in the jail. The result is Marching Powder. This book establishes that San Pedro is not your average prison. Inmates are expected to buy their cells from real estate agents. Others run shops and restaurants. Women and children live with imprisoned family members. It is a place where corrupt politicians and drug lords live in luxury apartments, while the poorest prisoners are subjected to squalor and deprivation. Violence is a constant threat, and sections of San Pedro that echo with the sound of children by day house some of Bolivia's busiest cocaine laboratories by night. In San Pedro, cocaine--"Bolivian marching powder"--makes life bearable.

During the mid 1980s Howard Marks had 43 aliases, 89 phone lines, and owned 25 companies throughout the world. Whether bars, recording studios, or offshore banks, all were money laundering vehicles serving the core activity: dope dealing. Marks began to deal small amounts of hashish while doing a postgraduate philosophy course at Oxford, but soon he was moving much larger quantities. At the height of his career he was smuggling consignments of up to 50 tons from Pakistan and Thailand to America and Canada and had contact with organizations as diverse as MI6, the CIA, the IRA, and the Mafia. This is his extraordinary story.

Midnight ExpressBy Billy Hayes and William Hoffer. Midnight Express tells the gut-wrenching true story of a young man’s incarceration and escape from a Turkish prison. A classic story of survival and human endurance, told with humor, honesty, and heart, it became the Academy Award-winning blockbuster film of the same name. In 1970 Billy Hayes was an English major who left college in search of adventures to write about, like his hero Jack London. He had a rude awakening when he was arrested at the airport in Istanbul trying to board a plane while carrying four pounds of hashish, and given a life sentence. After five brutal years, relentless efforts by his family to gain his release, and endless escape plotting, Hayes finally took matters into his own hands. On a dark night, in a wailing storm he began a desperate and daring escape to freedom…

The Damage DoneBy Warren Fellows.In 1978 Warren Fellows, Paul Hayward and William Sinclair were convicted of heroin trafficking between Thailand and Australia. They were sentenced to life imprisonment in Bangkok's notorious Bang Kwang men's prison, the Bangkok Hilton. For Warren Fellows, it was the beginning of twelve years of hell.

The Damage Done takes you behind the bars of a Bangkok prison. A place where sewer rats and cockroaches are the only nutritious food, where autocratic prison guards giggle as they deliver pulverising blows and where the worst punishment by far is the khun deo - solitary confinement, Thai style.

Among the 600 foreigners jailed in the 'Bangkok Hilton', one man resolves to do what no other has done: Escape. This is the true story of drug smuggler David McMillan’s perilous break-out from Thailand’s most notorious prison. After more than a year in prison and two weeks before a near-certain death sentence, McMillan escapes, never to be seen in Thailand again.

'It won't happen to me. That's what I thought when I got on the plane to Venezuela. But it did - I got caught.' Caught smuggling half a million euros' worth of cocaine, Paul Keany was sexually assaulted by Venezuelan anti-drugs officers before being sentenced to eight years in the notorious Los Teques prison outside Caracas. There he was plunged into a nightmarish world of coke-fuelled killings, gun battles, stabbings, extortion and forced hunger strikes until finally, just over two years into his sentence, he gained early parole and embarked on a daring escape from South America...

Costa Rica is one of the most amazing countries on earth, with natural beauty, beaches, and a warm culture that's unparalleled. Every year, almost 2.5 million tourists visit the nation that has no army, and thousands of expats and retirees from the United States and Canada move there annually. If you're thinking about moving to Costa Rica - or just going for a vacation - you definitely will want to read these books. They're not guide books, but real life narratives by people who actually moved there and experienced Costa Rica first hand. The books are listed by popularity and you can click on the titles to link to Amazon.com

Feel free to email me if you have any questions about moving to Costa Rica. Pura vida and happy reading!

In this humorous and witty account, Nadine Pisani shares what it is like to follow her dream of quitting her job and starting a new life under the sunny skies of Costa Rica. Along the way, she finds reliable utilities are not that reliable, quirky neighbors are unavoidable, and tackling red tape takes the strength of a linebacker. But with all its challenges, you'll learn why Costa Rica is ranked as one of the happiest places on earth--and you too may want to taste the Pura Vida lifestyle.

A gonzo blast of laughs and adventure about a year spent in the tropical paradise of Tamarindo, Costa Rica. Frustrated and unfulfilled with the rat race in the States, businessman Norm Schriever quits his job, sells and donates all of his possessions, and moves down to Tamarindo, Costa Rica, with nothing but a laptop and a surfboard. But Norm soon finds that paradise has its dark side. Whether it’s adapting to the local customs and the language barrier, dodging lawless drug traffickers and corrupt cops, or spending “quality time” in a Third World prison, Norm always keeps his sense of humor and forges ahead, intent on finding the paradise he has been looking for.

In 1996, Allan Weisbecker sold his home and his possessions, loaded his dog and surfboards into his truck, and set off in search of his long-time surfing companion, Patrick, who had vanished into the depths of Central America. In this rollicking memoir of his quest from Mexico to Costa Rica to unravel the circumstances of Patrick's disappearance, Weisbecker intimately describes the people he befriended, the bandits he evaded, the waves he caught and lost en route to finding his friend.

Have you ever been attacked by monkeys, hiked in one of the most biologically diverse places on earth, or had your wallet stolen, then given back? Matthew Houde and Jennifer Turnbull share these adventures and more in the book, Two Weeks in Costa Rica.

Ever wonder what it would be like to leave the U.S. and move to the tropics? This book deftly blends the personal story of the author (who, along with her husband and parents, moved from Maine to Costa Rica) with incredibly helpful practical advice. A wonderfully readable resource for anyone considering moving to Costa Rica. First in the Mainers in Costa Rica series.

Margot and Anthony were ordinary parents. With two jobs and three kids, there was soccer and carpool and too much to do, and a little chronic stress about money. Then one night, following a day that was a regular amount of hectic, Margot had an idea: “I think we should move to Costa Rica.” Seven weeks later, there they were, jobless on top of a mountain, hours from the nearest paved road. This witty, insightful memoir of a family's struggle to right itself in a leafy new world is about parenting and privilege, loneliness and connection. It’s about what happens when a stressed-out technology professional escapes with her loved ones to an idyllic mountaintop...and finds that even when everything changes, some things remain the same.

Heart Attack = One Week Vacation = A Story of Adventure = Life Lessons = Is Your Life in Need of a Makeover? Go along on an adventure as Debbie Knight shares a seven year journey that she and her husband, Chuck, followed in pursuit of the “pure" life in Costa Rica. You will learn about the magic of Pura Vida in one of the happiest places on earth and learn sometimes why it can also be a rather frustrating experience. You will question if your life is on the right track or if it too is in need of a makeover.

"What would be the best advice for young adults trying to travel or move out the country? And which countries are best to move to?"

Super questions! My best advice for young adults trying to move out of the country would be to travel while you’re young. Do it now when you don’t mind long bus rides and bad beds and you don’t have a lot keeping you back in the states (or your home country.) Life has a way of anchoring you as you go on, and pretty soon you might have a good job, an apartment lease, car payments, a house, or a relationships or marriage that keeps you grounded. So do it now!

I would also suggest that you form a plan how you are going to fund the trip a good ways out – maybe 6 months? - and work your butt off until that date arrives. You’ll have to sacrifice a lot; eating out, nights partying with friends, the newest clothes or concert tickets, but all of that money will be essential if you’re going to travel. In that time you have to prepare, read everything you can about your destination countries, learn about the cultures, watch documentaries, and read some travel articles and books that will give you a taste of real life on the road, too.

Last thing: be careful. The rest of the world is not a fantasy land and most people have problems that we can’t even imagine in the US. So getting too drunk, walking around alone, messing with drugs, getting in with the wrong crowd, etc. could lead you into situations you can’t get out of. Slow play the partying and keep your eyes open and you’ll be fine.

The other question, "Where should you go?"

That all depends on what you’re looking for, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say you want someplace warm, with a beach, that’s not too expensive, where there are other backpackers? That opens up one set of possibilities, but others want to volunteer, or to experience authentic culture more than partying and lying on the beach. It also makes a huge difference if you’re just going backpacking around or trying to live there for a year and work.

When I chose a country to live in (not just vacation!) I have a rough guide of criteria, based on priorities. Make your own list and then do some research what might be a good fit.

Tier 1• Cheap – lodging around $300-$500 a month, total budget around $1,500 a month.• Nice beach – a beautiful white sand beach goes a long way in balancing out all other factors!• Friendly people – Then again, I don’t care how beautiful a country is, if the people aren’t warm and friendly, I’ll keep it moving. I’m not down with snobbery or arrogance.• Safe politically – don’t be freaked out by one news story in a country (if we judged the US by that same standard we’d never want to visit!) but also don’t mess with places where a coup or political violence is occurring. Same thing goes for countries with terrorism, religious radicals, or drug cartel problems.• Good WIFI (no kidding – I write/work as I live abroad so I’m screwed without a serviceable internet connection)• City, town, or village? There are pros and cons to each as you balance amenities, convenience, laid back vibe, nature, etc.

Tier 2• Healthy, cheap food – I want to say “Yummmmm,” for $3 a meal, not for $7 a meal and up. • Culture – things to do like visiting temples, ruins, archeological sites, natural wonders, etc.• Night life – of course you want a little bit of fun, but are you looking for mellow beach bars or clubbing all night long?• Safety walking the streets• Ability to get work –teaching English, teaching yoga, or working at a hostel or bar are some of the best possibilities for local employment• Some tourism, but not overrun – the problem you’ll encounter is that the places you want to go, everyone else in the world wants to go there, too. The trick is to find a place that is ahead of the curve, not way behind it when it will be too crowded/too expensive/soulless. • Diversity of population – I like a place that has a healthy blend of backpackers, expatriates, vactioners, and plenty of locals who still live there – not just work there. That’s harder to find than you’d think!

Tier 3• Speak some English – you should attempt to learn the local lingo but it really helps when they speak a few words of English.• Proximity – The southern tip of Patagonia in Argentina is amazing, but don’t think you’re just a hop, skip, and jump away from main cities. It’s fun to be in a city/country where you can get around easily, hopping buses and even small flights around the country or region easily. • Good gym – since I’m living in these countries I want to go to the gym every day and especially love boxing or muay thai, etc., but maybe you just want to surf or do yoga, etc.• Family friendly – I like locations that don’t just have a bunch of 20 year old kids but a cross section of real life, including families and people who are old (my age.)

I just landed in Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam 48 hours ago, and the barrage to my senses is like a reunion with a beloved old friend; the chaotic blur of sights, the symphony of car horns, the masses of humanity. But no matter whether I’ve been in Cairo Egypt, Tamarindo, Costa Rica, or Manila in the Philipines, there are some commonalities I’ve noticed in all developing countries (sorry, Third World sounded better in the title.) For those of you who have traveled abroad – or grew up in another country – these might sound fondly familiar. 1. Most of the luggage on the airport conveyor belt is boxes duct taped together and addressed with a Sharpie.

2. Everyone wears flip flops, even the construction workers, except the police, who wear proper shoes, though they’re the only ones not running around. 3. Women have burn scars on the back of their calves from hot motorbike exhaust pipes.4. You’re supposed to throw toilet paper in the waste basket, not flush it.

5. There’s a showerhead right in the tiny bathroom and a drain on the floor, so you could sit on the toilet, brush your teeth in the sink, and take a shower all at the same time if you were so inclined.

6. The top sports on TV are soccer, beach volleyball, cricket, badminton, and Formula One racing.

7. The newscasters have English accents and only about 10% of the stories they report concern the United States.

8. You see a family of 5 on the same moped, including infants and toddlers, and the father is the only one wearing a helmet.

9. Every afternoon it rains harder than you’ve ever seen every for exactly 2 minutes.

10. Crossing the street is the most dangerous thing you’ll do all day.

11. Travelers are the only ones wearing sunglasses.

12. Poor people are skinny and rich people fat, the opposite of what how it is in the US.

13. Everywhere you look there are plastic lawn chairs.

14. People carry furniture, fishing pots, assorted construction materials, and three of their friends on their bicycles.

15. You have to count out 20,000 of the local currency just to buy a Coke.

16. Kids work in the streets all day and all night right next to their parents. If they get tired, they curl up and sleep on cardboard boxes right on the sidewalk.

17. Every bar has a gay host with a comb-over, two hot chicks pulling in customers from the street, three salty dog expats drinking beer and sweating all day long, and a little fat kid wearing a skin-tight tank top and a gold chain who has attitude for days.

18. The same street worker will gladly sell you gum, cigarettes, a lighter, bracelets, sunglasses, marijuana, change money, or sign you up for a boat tour.

19. If little kids need to pee (chee chee), their mothers just drop their pants in the middle of the sidewalk and let them go.

20. Girls hold hands when walking on the street with their girl friends or mom or dad. When they’re older and they walk with their boyfriend, they always are on the inside, away from the street, so they won’t be mistaken for a prostitute.

21. You check your shoes and bed sheets for scorpions.

22. There is laundry hanging from every available horizontal surface.

23. An amazing meal costs you only $3 on the street.

24. You lose 10 lbs in the first two weeks when that street meal does amazing things to your stomach, confining you to the bathroom for 23 hours a day. After that you can eat cheeseburgers and drink beer all day and still lose weight.

25. People pass the time smiling, laughing, and talking to each other. They are happy, and though their lives are hard, they somehow manage to restore your faith in humanity.

Because sometimes you have to offend 1 billion Chinese people, 65 million Frenchmen, Jerry Lewis, midgets, the ASPCA, vegetarians, change your last name to "Beaver," publicly confess to involuntary abstinence, eat some vanilla pudding, make fun of your own penis, and give a pig earrings, just to get through the day.

There was a French lady living in Tamarindo who kept nine terriers and a pig as pets. The pig had its ears pierced for some strange reason. It was the queen of the litter and the terriers circled around her, snarling viciously at anyone who got too close. Those fuzzy brown terriers couldn’t have been more than eight pounds each, but man they were nasty. Every day the French woman walked them on the beach. I passed them when I jogged on the beach. I tried to make a wide berth but for some reason they hated me. Maybe they could smell fear, or tell that I was American and didn’t think Jerry Lewis was all that funny? Perhaps they could sense that I loved bacon, I’m not sure, but all at once those nine little fuckers charged, showing their teeth and barking. “Eeeeeyyyyattts!” I screamed, picking up the pace of my run. But they closed in and blocked my escape, snapping at my heels. “Get back, you evil beasts!” I yelled. But these weren’t your Grandma’s poodles; those little mutated Ewoks were trained killers. I looked over to the woman for help, but she just stood there. How do you say, “Call off your nine psycho terriers, you horribly irresponsible woman!” in French? “Hey! Little help over here!” I yelled to her, pointing at the carnage unfolding around me. But she just lit up a cigarette and stared off toward the sunset. So I zigzagged up and down the beach with all nine of them giving chase, jumping around and waving my arms wildly like I was trying to cross a pit of hot coals. One terrier lunged at my testicles but missed. The other Ticos on the beach laughed hysterically, bent over holding their knees, but no one offered to help. So what if the little hairballs had pink collars—didn’t they understand that this was a real emergency? The leader of the terrier gang growled and took a step toward me. It was fourth and long, and coach was calling for a punt. I lined up...here comes the snap...laces out...I stepped into it and.... pulled back at the last moment because I didn’t have the heart to kick him. I whiffed into bright blue air and went tumbling down. This would end badly, I thought. I was defenseless; surely they would rip me to shreds. Everything went dark. I had so many questions for the lady. Maybe I could ask her once I was well enough to have visitors at the hospital, after the plastic surgeons pieced together what was left of my face. Of course I’d be in traction and a full body cast, the majority of damage to my man-junk region where the terriers were like little seek-and-destroy missiles. The French lady would visit me and put a box of truffles and an “I’m Sorry My Terriers Ate Your Penis” Hallmark card on my bed stand. “Iiiiiii cwannnnt eat solwid fwood yet,” I’d say, sipping my vanilla pudding through a straw. It was exhausting to speak. I was tired, so tired, but I had so much to ask her. I took out my dry erase board and wrote in green marker: “Why earrings on the pig? And why the little fake diamond studs? Why not those Indian feather things that are in style?” And oh, there was one more small thing since we were having a nice pleasant conversation via dry erase board: “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET YOUR NINE TERRIERS MAUL ME ON THE BEACH? For the love of all that is holy...WHYYYYYYYYYY???!!!” The machines that were hooked up to me would start beeping as my body went into convulsions. The nurses would run in. “We’re losing him. Plug in those round things that look like the Perfect Pushup and get ready to jumpstart his heart. And give me 5,000 cc’s of that fancy medical talk shit and prepare him for surgery.” They’d turn to the French woman. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave. Your husband needs emergency surgery for a penis transplant,” they’d tell her. “It’s risky, and there are numerous better options, but it’s up to you.”“Oh mon dieu pas, this man no is me husband,” she’d say as she lit up a long-filtered cigarette with her white gloves, blowing smoke in the general direction of my breathing tube. “But I will sign zee form, oui oui?” And she did.

“Mr. Scheeder, can you hear me?” the nurse would ask. “Shhhhweeber,” I’d say, trying to pronounce it right but the facial injuries and vanilla pudding getting in the way.

“What’s that, Shweeber? How’s that?”

“Sbweeber!” I’d moan.

“Fine then, Mr. Beaver, I have a very important medical question for you. The surgeon needs to know, how many times have you been sexually active—with your current penis—in the last six months?”

“With ah feemawle or my swell?”

“Yes, Mr. Beaver, with a female.”

“Inwooding dast weekwend?”

“Yes. Including last weekend.” She took out her chart and her pen and waited patiently. I tried counting on my fingers, but I only had one big nub of a cast, so I tallied the figures in my head, carrying the one, and came up with what I thought was a semi-accurate number.

“Theeeerooowwww.”

“Oh my, Mr. Beaver, did you just say ZERO?”

“Dwelllllll, gib oh thane?”

“Wow, never seen that before. Okay, zero it is,” she said and wrote it down on her chart with raised eyebrows.

“Ighh whas twaking a bwreak end thworking on mythelf!” I said.

“Uh huh, sure you were. Now just calm down.” She put the clipboard aside. “We’ve been trying to match you up with a suitable penis donor for the last two months but haven’t had any luck. We need to match up the size and shape of your member exactly if it has any chance of functioning again. It’s been a long, hard ...errr it’s been a difficult task.”

“Naht many pweople died?” I asked.

“Oh no, Mr. Beaver, we’ve had plenty of potential donors. Tons of them, actually. Just last week we had two Irishmen, a midget who died in a circus accident, and an adolescent Reggaton singer come through here, but they were all too large. But the good news is that we think we found a suitable donor for you!”

“An Iwishman was foo bwig?!! Are u shurre?”

“Yes, yes but we had a miracle last night. A ten-year-old Chinese boy died in a terrible scooter accident. Everything caught on fire. It was nasty business — his violin and his penis were the only things left intact. Congratulations, Mr. Beaver, you are going to have Wu Fat’s penis!”

She opened a cooler next to the bed and there it sat, on ice in the middle of a bunch of vanilla pudding snack packs.

“Ughhhhhhh, whad dud pbuck!” I’d say.

Then it got really weird. The nurse ripped off her blouse and jumped on top me.

“Ohhh, Mr. Beaver, I can’t control myself anymore.” She licked my face. What the hell was going on?

“Oh, mon petit amoureux.” The French lady started licking my face, too. “Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” They both were really going for it. Damn, they had some bad breath...

I came back to consciousness on the beach with a bunch of wagging terriers licking my face. The French lady stood above me, flicking her ashes.

“Monsieur, are you okay?’ she said.

“Phhht phhht!” I spit out the dog saliva and pushed them away. “Whad whappened? I mean, what happened?”

“My doggies wanted to play. You ran and fell down and hit your head,” she said. “Then you kept saying something about a Chinese boy’s penis.”

“Dammit, you horrible frog woman, keep those rotten beasts on a leash! They could really hurt someone!” I got up and brushed the sand off myself and stumbled up the beach. “And leave poor Wu Fat out of this!” I cried. “That poor little bastard has been through enough!”

“C’est la vie.” She shrugged and lit up another cigarette and kept on walking down the beach with her nine terriers and a pig with an earring. I went in the other direction.

Last week it was widely reported that President Barack Obama visited Costa Rica, touching down long enough to meet with President Laura Chinchilla about “reinforcing the deep cultural, familial, and economic ties” with the country, inciting both leers and thankful applause from Ticos (Costa Rican nationals) Together, they emphasized partnering to modernize Costa Rica’s economy, promote fair trade, and attract investments. But there was something that was left unsaid, an unspoken agenda not picked up on the microphones or documented by reporters: violence from the drug trade that has ravaged Mexico and Central America has started to infect Costa Rica. It’s not the first time we’ve been concerned - back in 2011 the U.S. deployed the USS Makin Island, 46 Coast Guard ships, 42 helicopters, and 4,000 sailors to Costa Rica, a geo-political chess move that had left a lot of people scratching their heads as to why we'd give tens of millions in aid money and amass a troop presence in this sunny, politically stable, but diminutive, Central American country. The official cause for troop deployment was to help that government's effort to control the transit of drugs into their borders. I lived in Tamarindo, Costa Rica for a year as I was writing a book and found it to be a charming, tranquillo village on the Pacific where surfboards outnumber cars, with good-hearted, smiling people. But there is a shadowy side to paradise, the game-behind the game that tourists never glimpse and gets almost no international attention. Until now. About 1.5 million tourists and expatriates come to Costa Rica ever year to enjoy plenty of sun, sea and lush jungle, returning to the U.S. with nothing but glowing platitudes about their time in paradise. Costa Rica of only 4 million people that's as big as Vermont and New Hampshire together, who takes up only .03 percent of the landmass on the globe but enjoys over 5 percent of its biodiversity. Located between Panama to the south and Nicaragua to the north, it's often lauded as a tourist haven and socially progressive nation with a stable constitution, no army since 1949, and a high literacy rate. It also happens to be one of the biggest drug transit nations in the world -- maybe THE biggest. An avalanche of cocaine flows into Costa Rica's borders from nearby Colombia, and, to a lesser extent, Panama, infiltrating the hundreds of miles of coastline on both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts of the country. It's estimated that 90 percent of the cocaine that ends up in the United States originates in Colombia and moves up this route -- by sea into Costa Rica, north into Nicaragua at the border at Peñas Blancas and up the Pan American Highway, or by sea up the chain of Central American countries, and then into Mexico, where the price jumps steeply in cartel hands before worm holing its way across the border into the U.S.

Of course the Costa Rican authorities try to stop it, but in a country that doesn't even have an army and the average police officer makes about $400 a month, it's truly a David and Goliath prospect. Costa Rican President Laura Chinchilla's has vowed to deal with the problem by doubling the police force, increasing enforcement, and building more prisons, but that's on the scale of adding a second fly swatter to deal with a plague of locusts. They still only have 10,000 prisoners in the whole country (compared to three million in the U.S.) and are ridiculously out-manned, out-spent, and out-gunned by the drug traffickers. Although well-intentioned, to date these measures haven't been effective in slowing down the unfathomable supply of cocaine that enters their country by speedboat, fishing boat, charter plane, packed inside truck tires, in the stomachs of human drug mules, hidden inside dolls, furniture, diapers, hollowed-out bibles, disguised as humanitarian aid, and everywhere else you can imagine. It's stored in clandestine warehouses, gutted buildings, and factories where it gets "stepped on" and repackaged for distribution. They even transport it in wooden submarines.

Wooden submarines were first detected by law enforcement around 1993. Technically they're not submarines but semi-submersibles because they don't actually dive, but cruise along just under the water's surface. The very top of the cockpit or exhaust pipes rise above the water to access breathable air. These "narco subs" are built in clandestine shipyards hidden in the jungle, each one taking two million dollars and a year to construct. They're nearly undetectable by radar, sonar, infrared systems, or patrolling aircrafts. Most of them are handmade with wood and fiberglass, reaching 60 feet long end to end. They move pretty slowly -- about seven to eleven miles per hour, powered by underwater diesel outboard motors and manned by a crew of four. They have fancy GPS systems but no bathroom. Each wooden submarine can transport up to ten tons of cocaine at a time. Whether on a speedboat or a wooden submarine, the cocaína is vacuum-sealed and dropped off in the open ocean floating in 50 gallon drums with electronic location transmitters, later to be scooped out of inlets, marshes, and estuaries by local runners in fishing boats. Believe it or not the worst occupational hazard for those pick-up men isn't cops or bullets, but crocodiles. Costa Rica has a huge croc population along its wild coast and drug runners jumping in and out of the water at night serve as a tasty snack. But when there's a will, and a profit to be made, there's a way. The financial windfall of transporting cocaine into Costa Rica, and north up the distribution pipeline, is staggering: a kilo of cocaine that goes for about $1,700 in Columbia might be worth $23,000 once it hits the streets of the United States, cut down to 20-40 percent purity. Most of us can only see this problem from a 10,000 foot high perspective, but I had particular insight into the drug trade in Costa Rica for another reason: unfortunately, an old friend of mine from Canada was caught and arrested growing marijuana and thrown in jail. During the year I lived there he was locked up in the prison in the small city of Liberia in Guanacaste Province, only an hour from Tamarindo, as he awaited sentencing. He had no family and few friends in the country, so I was the only one left to take care of him. Almost every weekend I had to visit him in prison to bring him clothing, toiletries, books, money, messages from his attorney and family, and food (they only gave the prisoners about 800 calories a day, most of which is in rice and beans and hot dog buns). He was the only gringo in jail -- 1,600 prisoners and him, and when I visited I was the only Americano in attendance, too. There was no safe visiting area for us, no well-guarded room with glass partitions and phones to communicate, they just locked us in with the prisoners for those visiting hours, in their beehive of cells in general population. Before going in I'd surrender my passport and get a stamp on my arm, so they'd know I wasn't a prisoner and be allowed to leave. "Don't sweat off that stamp or you won't get out," the prison guards told me, and I still don't know if they were kidding or being serious, but that only made me sweat more.

My friend was locked up with murderers and big time traffickers, thieves and petty street dealers, as well as middleman transporters who were just trying to feed their impoverished families. There was no segregation of prisoners for minimum or maximum security, gang affiliation, or based on mental illness. I regularly interacted with Columbians, Ticos, Guatemalans, Hondurans, and Mexican cartel, all locked in there together, 70 prisoners per cell built for 25, many of them sleeping on the floor. For those hours every weekend I got a first-class education in the nuts and bolts of the Central American drug trade like few other United States citizens ever have. Eventually my friend got sentenced to 5 years for a small time marijuana infraction. He's endured riots, prisoner attacks, abuse by prison guards, and witnessed a spectrum of craziness that Hollywood couldn't even make up as the wildest fiction. But he's also seen some mercy, a ray of grace in the place you'd least expect it, good people mixed in with all of that razor wire and cold concrete, and so far he's stayed safe. I pray for his safe release soon. All of this may sound horrifying, and lead you to the ultimate question "Does the drug trade make it dangerous in Costa Rica?" The answer is complex, but for the most part I'd say "no." Most of the problems are between rival factions involved in the drug trade, not innocent visitors. The ecosystem has a delicate equilibrium and these problems aren't even visible in the light of day. If a tourist exercises a little bit of common sense and stays clear of illegal elements, and especially drugs, they will be perfectly safe. Sure, there's crime and theft in Costa Rica, but that can be said of any city in the United States, as well. For now the country of pura vida -- pure life, is still one of the most beautiful places on earth, with friendly, sweet people, and tourists will continue to enjoy unforgettable vacations. I have no interest in politics and it's not my place to judge anyone, from any country. I am certainly not qualified to make a statement about the three-decade long U.S. drug war in Central American and South America, but now maybe you will understand the true message behind the sound bytes about fostering partnerships and economic development.

Email me if you'd like any advice about Costa Rica, traveling abroad, or want to check out the Amazon best-selling book, South of Normal.

This week the book South of Normal by Norm Schriever earned a place on the Amazon.com Best Seller list.

This designation is achieved when an author's work hits the top ten in its specific category on Amazon orKindle for Amazon.South of Normal did just that, amazingly reaching #5 behind in the same travel/adventure category as John Krakauer's iconic Into Thin Air, entrenched at #1.

South of Normal is described as a "Gonzo blast of laughter and adventure about a year spent living in the tropical paradise of Tamarindo, Costa Rica. So far, it's gained all 5-star reviews on Amazon but is also embroiled in some controversy. Readers can find the book on Amazon.com or see more details at NormWrites.com or connect with the author on Twitter @NormSchriever.Tamarindo, Costa Rica, surf, ski, snowboard, diving, pura vida, Central America, Nicaragua, San Juan del Sur, Amazon best seller, travel, adventure, backpack, hiking, sharks, Endless Summer, Robert August, memoir, fitness journey, globetrotting, perfect beach, paradise, spring break, expat, live abroad, work abroad, summer reading, around the world, great read, humor, laugh out loud, South of Normal, Pushups in the Prayer Room

At Christmas time they put a pine tree up by the bar in the Estrella, decorated with ornaments and tinsel. Blinking white lights hung from palm trees and front doors all over town. Someone hung a stocking from the lifeguard tower. The local schoolchildren even put on a Christmas pageant on a stage built by the pool, complete with a Santa Claus, who was sweating his north pole off in that heavy suit.

They even brought out a local musical act as a special treat, though I think it was more of a treat for him than the audience. He introduced himself as “Tico Hendrix” and sported a jerry-curl and buck teeth. Tico pawed at an electric keyboard and howled out Christmas songs and bad jokes into the microphone.

“It’s so great that they give special needs people a chance to perform in public,” I told my friend, who corrected me that Tico Hendrix was fully functioning, and not even on the spectrum, but just really bad. During the merciful breaks between bad songs, he told bad jokes:

“Thank you ladies and germs, your applause is underwhelming. Excuse me, folks, but my English is not so good. And neither is my Spanish...”

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Norm Schriever

Norm Schriever is a best-selling author, expat, cultural mad scientist, and enemy of the comfort zone. He travels the globe, telling the stories of the people he finds, and hopes to make the world a little bit better place with his words.

Norm is a professional blogger, digital marketer for smart brands around the world, and writes for the Huffington Post, Hotels.com, and others.